


i see you shiver with anticipation

by Argella



Category: IT (2017), IT (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College AU, Eddie POV, Halloween AU, M/M, background benverly, background stanlonbrough, bev just kept inserting herself in this fic tbh, it's a Rocky Horror Halloween y'all, technically underage drinking?, they're college sophomores
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Argella/pseuds/Argella
Summary: Bev and Ben have their costumes planned, as do Mike, Stan, and Bill--all couples costumes Eddie assumes. So when Richie insists that he and Eddie coordinate their costumes, Eddie's confused because, well, they aren't a couple.Halloween au / modern day au





	i see you shiver with anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't wait until Halloween to post this lol. maybe now i'll have time to finish up my gendrya halloween fic. Is this ooc? Definitely maybe. I've only seen the 2017 and 2019 films but this idea just popped into my head and wouldn't leave. i've only written for reddie from 40 y/o Richie's pov, so hopefully i managed to find Eddie's voice
> 
> you don't *have* to have seen Rocky Horror to understand this, but it would probably help to at least google some pictures
> 
> enjoy!

Eddie thinks it’s a joke at first; another one of Richie’s bits. One that he just happens to be rather insistent about.

It starts at the beginning of October. Ben and Bev had just moved into an apartment together at the beginning of the semester, and Bev is excitedly planning a Halloween get-together to throw at their new place. Though, knowing her, “get-together” was too small a word for what she had planned.

They’re all eating lunch together between classes on the lawn of their campus’ central plaza. Bev is leaning into Ben, who’s smiling down at her, Stan is reading a textbook for class, piping up into the group’s conversation sporadically, Mike has an arm slung around Bill, and Eddie is poking unenthusiastically at a fruit cup he’d bought from the Starbucks on campus. Richie is the only one laying out on the ground, limbs sprawled out haphazardly, face pointed up toward the sun with his eyes firmly shut. Eddie had gotten there last, the professor of his last class holding them late to talk about their upcoming midterm. He’d taken a seat before frowning at Richie and quoting some facts about the risks of excess sun exposure before Richie had finally opened his eyes with a huff and accepted Eddie’s travel sunscreen.

“And you all have to dress up in costumes, no exceptions,” Beverly warns, looking pointedly at Stan, who just rolls his eyes.

Eddie just frowns, letting his friends carry on the conversation. He isn’t exactly up for a big party. His first year of college had been exciting—even more than he’d expected since he and all his friend had gotten into the same school. His first year of freedom from his mom had seen him trying all sorts of new things and becoming a generally more independent person—he had even managed to get a job at the school bookstore. He’d ended his first year with good grades, a couple of new friends from his classes, and a feeling of pride at having survived (mostly) on his own for a whole eight months.

Returning home during the summer, however, had been hell. Living with his mother again had been like being doused in cold water. She’d been extra clingy, trying to scrub away any progress he had made in both his independence and confidence. Things weren’t as bad as they’d been when he was a child and still being fed lies about medications and allergies and how _delicate _he was, but she had tried her hardest to get Eddie to forget just how much growth he had made while away.

Thankfully, he’d had Richie back in Derry with him. Stan and Bill had stayed at school for the summer to take classes, Mike had agreed to spend most of his summer on the farm, helping out his grandad, Ben had somehow managed to land an internship at an architecture firm after just his first year in school, and Bev was in Portland with her aunt. So, it had just been the two of them stuck in Derry. But even when his mom was at her worst, trying to bar him up in his room and convince him that going out into town—especially to see “_that _boy”—was bad for him, Richie made sure to spring Eddie free as often as he could or, on some nights, to sneak into his room to see him. The two had spent the summer at the quarry, at the arcade, and up at night, whispering about how their first two semesters had gone and the future plans and dreams they had. It had almost felt like every other summer he had spent in Derry, only it was just him and Richie.

Going back to school in the Fall and meeting up with all of his friends again had honestly been a little strange. He had grown so accustomed to just being around Richie (and, on occasion, Mike) that he had trouble remembering the others were around sometimes, he got so caught up in Richie. Things had always been like that between the two though; they’d dive into some sort of argument or topic of conversation—who was the best X-Men character, what was the best ice cream flavor, how Richie was singing the wrong lyrics to that song that kept playing on the radio, for fucks sake—and the others would kind of turn into white noise behind them. Like it was just Eddie and Richie. As reluctant as Eddie would be to admit it to him, Richie really was his best friend out of all of the Losers.

So, Eddie’s summer hadn’t been all _that_ bad, but his time at home certainly had been. And when Richie had shown up at his house in the middle of August, honking and yelling out the window at him to “Hurry that ass up, Eds!” Eddie had eagerly grabbed his suitcase and duffle bag before trying to say a quick goodbye to his mother. Only, she’d had other plans, deciding to give him a ten-minute lecture on how college wasn’t everything—accompanied by crocodile tears about how he must hate her to leave her all alone in the house, prone to falls or a heart attack or burglars looking to prey on a sweet, lonely woman—and to make sure to refill his prescriptions ahead of time and then, much to Eddie’s discomfort, on being careful around “Those heathen friends of yours.” “Especially that one,” she’d added on, glancing through the curtains out at Richie, who was nodding along to the car radio, tapping out a beat on his steering wheel, “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Eddie had finally managed to make his escape then, stomach churning uncomfortably, and had thrown his things into the back of Richie’s car, slamming the passenger door shut quickly before buckling up and facing forward. Richie must’ve seen something on his face because he’d been quiet for a whole five minutes before he started narrating the drive and Eddie had told him to shut the fuck up and then things had been normal.

But his mother’s calls had been persistent for the first few weeks, as had all of the nasty things she’d had to say to him. Eventually, being busy with work and school had provided Eddie with the excuses he needed to answer less and less of them, but seeing those missed calls stare back at him from his phone screen still left him feeling guilty.

And maybe a party with his friends was what he needed to relax and get back to the happy, confident Eddie he had been last school year; he just wasn’t looking forward to it at the moment.

“What about you Eddie?” Ben asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He takes a quick spoonful of over-sugared peaches and a cherry, chewing slowly as he takes in the eyes of all of his friends—well, all but Richie, who still had his closed—that are trained on him. They mostly look varying degrees of amused, having caught on to the fact that he wasn’t listening, except for Ben, whose eyes stare back at him as kind as always.

“Me and Eds will do something, won’t we baby?” Richie chimes in from the ground.

Eddie frowns. “Don’t call me that.” He figures “that” meaning both Eds and baby should be pretty obvious. “We’ll do what?” he asks after a beat.

“And they think I’m not listening,” he hears Stan mutter.

Ben just keeps smiling at him. “Do you know what you’re going to wear as your Halloween costume?”

“Oh. I don’t know, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“You could always j-join us,” Bill says. Eddie looks at him in confusion. He had clearly missed a good amount of the conversation.

“Bill, Stan, and I were thinking about going as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” Mike explains. “We could always use a Raphael.”

Eddie smiles at him, pretending to think about it. As cool as it’d be to do a big joint costume with them, he knows he’d feel like a fourth wheel to the couple. “Thanks guys, I’ll consider it.”

“No need Eds, I’ve already gotten our costume planned out.” Eddie frowns over at Richie, now propped up in the grass, leaning back on his elbows. Mike, Bill, and Stan were coordinating their outfits and Ben and Bev likely were too. He didn’t exactly mind if he and Richie planned their costumes together—they’d done it before as kids—only it would be pretty weird to do now, when all of their friends were only doing it because they’re in relationships with each other, wouldn’t it?

Before he can cautiously lay out his apprehension, Bev says, “And what did you have in mind Richie?”

Richie sends her a smirk. “I’m going to go as Dr. Frank N. Furter.”

Beverly lets out a loud laugh, while the other Losers look at Richie with amusement (Bill, Mike, and Ben) and judgement (Stan and Eddie).

“From Rocky Horror?” she asks. “No _way_ are you actually going to do that.”

Richie pretends to look affronted before gesturing toward his skinny jean-clad legs. “These legs were made for fishnets Bev.”

“Yeah, hairy and pasty, the perfect combination,” Mike jokes.

“If you’re Frank N. Furter, then who am I meant to be? Brad?” Eddie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Brad?” Richie repeats, almost sounding offended. “No way Eds, you’ll be Rocky of course.”

Eddie’s face deadpans as he looks at the toothy grin Richie is beaming at him. “Rocky? You want me to dress up as Rocky from Rocky Horror for Halloween?”

Richie fishes out a flattened pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans and begins fumbling with his lighter as he says, British voice and all, “Affirmative my good sir.”

Bev reaches a hand out, rubbing her fingers together in a grabby motion until Richie passes one her way. Eddie makes a point to cough harshly when they both light up. Bev just sends a sweet smile his way and an apologetic one toward Ben, while Richie rolls his eyes and blows smoke in the opposite direction.

“Think about it this way, you probably already have the shorts,” Richie teases.

Eddie scoops a peach onto his spoon before flinging it square at Richie’s forehead.

\--

Eddie’s sophomore year classes are much more taxing than his freshman year classes. His first year had been filled mostly with weed-out science classes, as his department thought they had too many students and wanted to become more selective. This year though, most of his professors expect him and his classmates to already be accustomed to the fast pace. He’s just had a pop quiz in his Chem 2 lab and, despite the anxiety he’s feeling over his grade, he’s relieved to be heading to his sociology class. Richie’s Communications degree doesn’t exactly overlap with Eddie’s Botany degree, so they try to take as many gen ed courses together while they can. This semester that includes Principles of Sociology.

He gets there ten minutes early, Richie, unsurprisingly, nowhere in sight, and takes a seat in the fifth row where they always sit, placing his bag down delicately on the floor next to him. Despite all of the positive growth he’d made since he was thirteen and had learned that all of his illnesses were fake, it had taken a whole semester for him to calm down about dirty lecture hall seats and tables and crammed dorm room floors. Richie had nearly tackled him to the floor the first time he’d seen Eddie pull out a sanitizing wipe to clean off the long table they were sitting at in their first class together (and, in apology, had helped take care of Eddie when he’d gotten a bug that was going around campus a few weeks later).

He’s pulled out his notebook for class and is going over his notes from the last lecture when the chair next to him swings out, the edge of it lightly skimming his thigh as it’s pulled toward the person grabbing it. He doesn’t look up, already expecting it to be Richie.

Only, there’s no heavy thump from Richie’s bag hitting the table and he doesn’t feel knobby knees brushing against his own as they struggle to cram themselves under the desk.

Looking up, he’s met with styled blonde hair instead of Richie’s unruly black curls. A charming, straight smile, instead of Richie’s own crooked one.

Eddie blinks at the guy now sitting next to him. He vaguely recognizes him from this class. He doesn’t know his name, only that he raises his hand a lot to answer the professor’s questions. And that he doesn’t usually sit by Eddie, or anywhere near him really. In fact, the more Eddie looks at that blonde hair, the more he’s sure that the guy usually sits in the first or second row, almost in line with his seat. The guy is good looking, there’s no denying that, but Eddie has no clue as to why he’s sitting next to him right now, over a month and a half into the semester.

“Hi,” the guy says, grin bright on his face.

Eddie clears his throat, dropping his notebook onto the table. “Hi?” He cringes at himself, knowing it sounds like he just asked a question.

“My name’s Erick,” he says, smile not falling as he thrusts his hand in between them.

Eddie takes a quick glance at the hand before reluctantly clasping it with his own. “Eddie.”

“I know.” He sends a confused look to the guy, who only looks slightly sheepish. “From the first day, when we all had to say our name and some facts about ourselves.”

Eddie vaguely remembers doing that, but he had had to do that in most of his classes. The dread he’d felt at having to share with the class had been minimized when Richie had gone before him, proclaiming that his one fact was that, “Eddie here,” (he’d ruffled Eddie’s hair, much to his irritation) “is my best friend.”

“I guess you kind of just stood out to me.” The guy—Erick—gives Eddie a once over, from where the tops of his socks nearly meet his capris, up to the little curls hanging over his forehead. Eddie’s face heats at the thought that Erick just might be flirting with him.

Eddie wouldn’t exactly describe himself as in the closet (not to his friends at least—a drunken kiss with a guy at a party his freshman year had definitely spoiled that secret) but he’s not sure he’s putting out “Hey guys, I’m gay, come talk to me!” vibes either. And certainly not while he’s in class. So, he’s not exactly sure if he minds Erick’s attention or not. Before he can come to a decision though, he sees a shadow fall over him, and Erick’s eyes move up and above Eddie’s head.

“Hey Eds,” he hears from behind him, “who’s your new friend?”

Eddie turns and tilts his head up to see Richie towering over him. He’s got a smile on his face, but Eddie can tell it’s tight. “Oh, um, this is Erick. He has class with us.”

From his periphery he can see Erick give a small nod of acknowledgement to Richie.

“Well, _Erick_ is in my seat.”

Eddie frowns at Richie’s clipped tone, confused as to why he’s being so rude. Before he can say anything about it though, Erick’s speaking again.

“Sorry man, just thought I’d introduce myself to Eddie here.” He’s getting up as he speaks, his chair moving out and to the side from where it’s attached to the table, legs brushing against Eddie’s. “See you around,” he says, giving a wave to Eddie that he returns with a polite nod.

Once he’s shuffled past Richie and walked down a few rows to his usual seat, Richie drops his bag down and falls into his chair, managing to kick Eddie twice in the process. Eddie huffs and leans back in his own seat, trying to regain his own personal space.

“What was that about?”

“What was what about?” Richie asks, digging around in his bag.

“Why were you rude to that guy?”

Richie pulls out a pen and a few crumpled, loose-leaf sheets of paper, making Eddie wrinkle his nose.

“I wasn’t rude. This is my seat; I always sit by you.” Richie’s tone is matter of fact as he throws his bag onto the floor in between his legs.

“Okay, but there’s another open seat on my other side,” Eddie says simply.

Richie starts thumping his fingers on the table, a sign that Eddie knows means he doesn’t know what to say. “Yeah, well,” he shrugs. Before Eddie can push him on it, their professor finishes pulling up the lecture slides he’d been downloading and quiets them.

\--

Eddie lets out a yawn, plans already forming to head back to his dorm and take a short nap before meeting the other Losers for dinner. His professor finishes his lecture and begins logging off the computer while the rest of his classmates pack up. He sits up and stretches from his position leaning against the table, nearly in sync with Richie who also seems to have had trouble staying awake during class. They pack up silently, Eddie pushing up out of his seat first, so they don’t both get stuck. He’s waiting for Richie to finish packing and get up and glances uninterestedly around the classroom. He looks toward the front, where the projector screen is along with a small line of students wanting to talk to the professor, and makes eye contact with Erick, who smiles and begins making his way up the slight incline toward the back of the room where the doors—and Eddie—are.

Eddie feels his heartbeat pick up, nervous about what this guy could possibly want, when he feels a large hand wrap around his forearm and tug him around. Richie has an unreadable expression on his face that quickly turns into a smile as he loosens his grip on Eddie’s arm and lets go of it. 

“I was thinking about getting the finishing touches for my costume after class tomorrow, wanna come with?”

Halloween was only two weeks away, and their discussion on costumes and Bev and Ben’s party had seemed ages ago. Eddie knows he’s been procrastinating, but he figures if he can’t get anything together, Bev would be more than willing to help him figure something out. “I can’t, the Botany Club has a meeting tomorrow and I need to get some work done before going.”

Richie lets out a put-upon sigh. “Fine, I suppose you’ll just have to wait until Halloween to see how my costume comes together.”

“Are you still planning on going as Frank N. Furter?” Eddie asks.

“Duh. I can’t leave you all alone as Rocky.” Eddie frowns. He honestly thought Richie had been joking about that, but the genuine smile on Richie’s face as he says it doesn’t exactly make it seem like he’s joking.

“I’m not so sure that’s the best costume choice for me Rich.”

Richie shoos him out of the aisle, and they head for the exit, the last ones leaving the room as people begin to trickle in for the next class. “Please, you were born to be Rocky.” He reaches a hand forward, pinching Eddie’s cheeks sharply, “You’ll look so _cute, cute, cute_ in those shorts I bet.”

Eddie slaps Richie’s hand away, grumbling a goodbye as they part ways.

As he walks back to his dorm, alone, he tries to ignore the ache in his chest he’s been feeling around Richie lately. Especially when Richie goes around pinching his cheeks and calling him cute—something that happens way more than one would think. So what if Eddie is a cliché, having a crush on his childhood best friend? Richie was great, who wouldn’t have a crush on him? Okay, scratch that, Richie is a mess at the best of times, tells way too many ‘Your Mom’ jokes, and has horrible taste in fashion. But he was great to Eddie and Eddie just couldn’t help liking him. He’d been able to ignore it most of his teenage years, thinking that he just really, _really _liked being Richie’s friend and that all of the characteristics he was paying too close attention to were actually because he was jealous of Richie. But one day, literally out of nowhere, it had hit him. Eddie liked Richie in a friend way, yes, but he also liked Richie in a more-than-friend way. He’d only had a moment to focus on that though before his thoughts shifted to “Holy fuck, I’m_ actually _gay.” That had been two and a half years ago now, and Eddie likes to think that at this point he has the whole “secretly yearning for your best friend while also trying to not let it affect your friendship” thing down pat. But there’s still those times—like when Richie pinches his cheeks and calls him cute; or when he wakes up early to meet Eddie before his class even when he himself doesn’t have class, coffee in hand; or even when he’s lounging out on the plaza with the rest of the Losers, serene smile on his face as he takes in the sunlight—that really get to Eddie and make it hard to ignore his feelings. And it’s been especially hard lately, after how much time the two had spent alone together over the summer.

He seems to make the walk back to his dorm room on autopilot, so lost in his thoughts that he barely notices he’s unlocked and entered his room until he’s dropping his backpack onto the floor and taking his shoes off. He changes into more comfortable and clean clothes before plopping down on his bed, determined to block out all Richie-thoughts and take a nap.

\--

It’s the end of October and Eddie still doesn’t have a costume idea for the party. Luckily for him, Bev wants to hit up the party store a few days before Halloween and, upon hearing that Eddie has gotten absolutely nothing for his costume, insists that he come with her.

“I mean, really Eddie, Halloween is literally days away.”

“I know, I know,” he whines. “I’ve just been busy with classes and, I don’t know, not really in the party mood.”

She hums. “I’ve noticed. You seem a bit off since returning from summer break. Quieter,” she says softly.

Eddie’s face scrunches up. He had hoped he wasn’t being that obvious. “Do you think the others have noticed?”

“Richie for sure, we’ve talked about it. As for the others—”

“Wait, you and Richie talked about me?”

“He just said that he was worried, that’s all,” she says, obviously trying to break it in a way that wouldn’t leave Eddie mad at her or Richie. “We all want you to be happy Eddie.” She leans over from where she’s walking alongside him on the sidewalk, nudging him gently with her elbow.

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. Maybe this party will be just the thing then.”

She laughs, a happy sound that contrasts nicely with the dreary October weather they’re walking in. “That’s the spirit!”

A bell chimes above the door when they enter the party shop and Eddie can faintly hear the Monster Mash playing in the background. The place isn’t exactly packed, but there are quite a few last-minute shoppers browsing.

Bev makes her way into the store, confident in where she’s going, as Eddie trails behind her, leaving a wide berth between himself and the creepy displays of Freddy Kreuger, Michael Meyers, and Ghostface that are set up around the place.

“I called ahead, and they said they had some Rocky Horror items still in stock. I guessed you just need the shorts, seeing as that’s really all he wears—aside from a corset which I didn’t think you’d be really be up for—so I had them set aside a pair for you.”

Eddie stops in his tracks, no longer listening to Bev rattle on about how she asked them to hold a size small and a medium, “just in case.” It takes a minute for her to realize he’s stopped, and she looks back at him, confused, when she does. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought we were going to get me a costume?”

“Yeah,” she nods slowly. “And they have Rocky Horror costumes here.”

Eddie bites his lip. “I thought that was like, a joke?”

“You thought—” recognition seems to dawn on her, and she smiles. “I can see why you’d think that, but Richie was totally serious, trust me. He won’t shut up about it.” Her smile turns into a smirk. 

Eddie fidgets a bit, looking around at all of the costumes still on the shelves. “Can’t we just find me something else?”

Beverly frowns a bit. “Richie will be pretty disappointed but, I mean, I guess we could figure something else out.”

“It’s just, that costume is a bit uh…out there,” Eddie reluctantly admits.

“It’s just shorts Eddie,” she says shrugging her shoulders loosely.

He gives her a look that he thinks says, “You know what I mean.”

“Don’t you think there will be something more my style here?”

“Well,” Bev says, expression serious, “there’s plenty of Freddy Krueger masks left.”

“Fuck.” He sighs. “I waited too long, didn’t I?”

She nods at him in mock solemnity before brightening up quickly. “What about the scene between Rocky and Janet?”

“What?”

“The one where Frank N. Furter catches them together in his lab? They cover themselves with a red sheet. You could always just drape something over yourself?”

He’s still not entirely sold on it, but says anyway, “I guess that could work…”

Fifteen minutes later he’s going back into the dressing room to put on his normal clothes, cheeks feeling hot.

“Eddie, you have no idea how much I want to send Richie a picture of you in those, he’s going to literally die,” Bev says, voice a little muffled from behind the curtain acting as a dressing room door.

“Oh no,” he calls back, “no way in Hell would I let you anywhere near me in those with a camera.”

When Eddie finally finishes dressing, they head toward the register together, him with his shorts and Bev with her arms full of party decorations. Eddie just scowls at the cashier’s questioning look when ringing him up, moving to the side when he’s done paying so Beverly can check out. When they’re finally back out in the crisp October air, heading back toward the direction of campus and Bev’s apartment, Eddie feels slightly resigned to his fate. He’s not entirely sure he would do this if he didn’t have a crush on Richie, but even that’s debatable; Richie’s always been able to convince him to do things he wouldn’t normally. Still, why couldn’t he have wanted to go as comic book characters like they used to, or even just characters from a tv show they liked? Preferably ones that wore more clothing.

“Why is Richie so insistent on this outfit anyway? I didn’t know he liked Rocky Horror so much,” Eddie sulks.

Bev tilts her head in thought. “I think the idea just popped into his head. You know how Richie gets when that happens.”

Eddie did know. “Okay, but why did he have to drag me into it?”

Bev gives him a grin that would be lecherous on anyone else. “Probably just to see you in those shorts.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “God, now you sound like Richie.”

Bev laughs. “He does have a bit of a thing for your legs.”

“Yeah, if by thing you mean loves to joke about them even though I stopped wearing short shorts freshman year of high school,” he scoffs.

Beverly stops laughing, slowing down a bit as they get closer to campus. “Okay, first off, you definitely didn’t stop wearing them until your sophomore year and I know you have a few pairs stashed at the bottom of your dresser,” Eddie grumbles at that, “and two, you know how Richie is, always joking to hide his feelings and all.”

Eddie’s brow scrunches up in thought. “What does him joking about my legs have to do with his feelings?”

Bev just chuckles, rolling her eyes, until she notices Eddie still looks confused. “Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah?”

“I…well you and Richie…you know, Richie’s…feelings? And you? Both of your feelings?”

Eddie can feel his heart start thrumming so quickly, it feels ready to burst from his chest and take flight. He doesn’t want to assume this is going the direction he’s desperately hoping it is but, “Bev, what are you trying to say?”

She hesitates a second, a look on her face as if she’s debating whether to say what she wants to or nor. After another few seconds in which Eddie’s sure he’s going to have an aneurism, “I think you should ask Richie about it.” She nods her head after saying it, carrying on with their walk.

Eddie grits his teeth, tries again, “Bev why can’t you—”

“Eddie,” she says simply, a stern look on her face.

He sighs, knowing Bev won’t budge. He can’t help the petulant tone that creeps in when he says, “Fine.”

She slings an arm around his shoulders, making sure to talk about topics completely unrelated to Halloween for the rest of their walk together, but that does nothing to stop Eddie’s mind from wandering to what feelings Beverly was reluctant to talk about or to stop the nerves from creeping in when he thinks about asking Richie about it.

\--

Eddie’s staring at himself in front of the mirror, nothing on but those stupid fucking gold shorts, and feeling like an absolute tool.

“I can’t do this. Nope. No way,” he mutters to himself. “No fucking way.” He’s about to grab his phone, send a quick text to the group chat—something along the lines of ‘Sorry guys, I lost my costume and also I have food poisoning or maybe pneumonia, can’t come, sorry!’—when he hears a knock on his door. “Shit.”

He hesitates a moment too long, and another knock comes. He moves slowly toward the door, unlocking it and cracking it open just enough for him to peer around the corner.

“Hi Ben,” he says, shifting from foot to foot behind the door. His friend is smiling happily at him, his Hogwarts robes draped around him, wand in hand.

“Hi Eddie! Are you ready to go?” Beverly knew Eddie wouldn’t feel comfortable heading over to the party in his costume, sheet covering him or not, so she had asked Ben to pick him up.

“Um, I don’t think I can go.”

Ben frowns. “Bev said you might do this.”

Eddie splutters indignantly. “Do what?”

“Try to get out of coming with an excuse.”

He’s about to open his mouth again, to word vomit some poor reasoning as to why he can’t go with Ben that might seem at least a little believable, but he sees the kind smile on Ben’s face and thinks better of it. “Fine, but don’t make fun of me or I swear to God Ben.”

Ben holds his hands up in defense as Eddie closes the door on him, turning to slip his shoes on, wrap a sheet around himself as much as possible (if he’s lucky, it’ll be dark and everyone will be so drunk, they’ll think he’s dressed as a really shitty mummy), and grab his dorm room key.

Ben’s smiling at him in amusement when he steps out. Eddie sends him a glare. “What?”

“Your sneakers. They look a bit out of place.”

Eddie huffs. “Well, I can’t exactly go barefoot can I?”

“Well when you get inside actually—”

He cuts Ben off. “Don’t even finish that sentence Ben.”

The drive over is relatively quick, Ben and Bev’s apartment not being too far from campus. According to Ben, the party had started early, all of their other friends having already arrived along with other people they invited. Eddie supposes that might be for the best. By the time he gets there, it might be just packed enough, and people might have had just enough to drink, that he can just blend right in.

There’s kids out on the street in costumes, scurrying to different apartment buildings, intermixed with tipsy college kids heading toward Ben and Bev’s building.

Eddie takes a deep breath before exiting the car. He’s been to their place before, but never for a party. He can hear the music blasting loudly from the hallway, bass pumping in time with his wildly beating heart. When they enter, the place is so dark, lit up only by blacklights that Bev had picked up when Eddie went to the party store with her and some strung up Halloween lights. The living room looks foggy, the haze likely coming from a shitty fog machine, and is crammed with people. Ben immediately strides into the apartment, seeking out Bev and their friends. Eddie trails along behind them, gripping tightly at the sheet around him in an effort to not trip over it.

Ben must have some kind of Beverly senses because he finds her with relative ease despite all of the people in their place. She’s in the kitchen, mixing up some drink in a punch bowl decorated to look like a cauldron. Her costume matches Ben’s, as Eddie had expected; Lily and James Potter, he remembers her mentioning. The already small kitchen is made even smaller with the presence of three very large, plastic turtle shells facing Eddie. He walks around the island, smiling when he sees Mike, Stan, and Bill’s faces. They all grin back at him, expressions sporting varying degrees of intoxication.

“Eddie!” Stan exclaims. Eddie smiles in surprise at Stan’s greeting—he’s got to be the drunkest. “We thought you’d never show up!”

“Y-yeah,” Bill says, stutter more prominent after he’s had a few drinks. “R-R-Richie hasn’t shut up about it.” He hiccups. “Y-you? About you.”

Mike just smiles, nodding along with his boyfriends.

“Speaking of Richie,” Ben says, a devious smile on his face that could rival the boy in question’s, “where is he? I know he’s been dying to see Eddie’s costume.”

Eddie feels himself blush and hopes it goes unnoticed in the dim lighting.

“I’ll go find him!” Bev shouts.

“No wait, Bev, you don’t—” he starts, but the girl is already taking off, robes billowing behind her.

Eddie grabs a cup from a nearby stack of them, ladling in whatever it was Bev had just been mixing. Bill, Mike, and Stan have all gone back to their conversation, and Ben sends him a sympathetic smile. Eddie rolls his eyes at him—he’s the one that brought up Richie like that in the first place. His throat burns as the drink goes down. He’ll probably need more liquid courage to get through this night. He’s starting to get hot under his sheet, with so many people packed in such a small place. He adjusts it so it exposes his shoulders just a little bit.

He fills his cup up again, sipping more slowly this time, and notices that it’s just him and Ben standing around the island now. Mike, Stan, and Bill seem to have left the kitchen while Eddie was preoccupied with his cup and his sheet and made for the makeshift dance floor. They look ridiculous out there trying to dance, turtle shells clanging together awkwardly, pushing into people trying to dance near them. A laugh bursts from Eddie at the sight, and he smiles into his cup as he takes another deep sip. When he looks back up, mid-swallow, he nearly chokes.

He begins coughing and gasping loudly, eyes burning with tears. Ben is thumping at his back and Bev has rushed over to him but, despite it all, he can’t take his eyes off Richie walking up to him. Richie actually dressed as Frank N. Furter, fishnets, lipstick, and all.

“Oh my God,” he manages to choke out.

Richie smiles. “Don’t die on me now Eds, not before I see what you’re hiding under that sheet of yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows obscenely. If Eddie’s face wasn’t flushed before, it is now.

“Fuck off Trashmouth.” Ben stops rubbing gentle circles on his back, his hand now being grabbed by Bev as she drags him off to the dancefloor upon seeing Eddie take normal breaths. He takes another sip of his drink. Just to help his throat out, really. “I can’t believe you actually wore that.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t I?” Eddie shrugs. “What are you wearing then? Don’t tell me you chickened out,” he jokes.

“Fuck off, why else do you think I have this stupid sheet on me?”

Richie smirks at him, eyes shining. “To tease me?”

Eddie’s not stupid, he knows Richie flirts with people, especially when he’s been drinking. That’s just how he is, and Eddie really tries not to take it personally. But he can’t help the heat that pools in his stomach at the tone of Richie’s voice. Can’t help but let his eyes fall down to Richie’s curled lips, tongue darting out to wet his own.

“So, can I?”

Eddie shakes his head. “What?”

“Can I see? Your costume.” Richie nods toward the sheet knuckled tightly in Eddie’s grip and starts moving toward him. When he’s up close in front of Eddie, towering over him, he gently places a hand over Eddie’s that’s still holding onto the sheet.

Eddie’s eyes dart down, taking in the large hand now covering his own. The heat that seems to emanate from Richie’s. He doesn’t know what makes him allow it—maybe it’s because it’s dark, the alcohol, the loud music, or maybe it’s something else, who knows—but he lets Richie’s hand stay clasped around his while his other hand comes up and gently pries the sheet loose from Eddie’s grip; to tug it away from his body.

Eddie’s sure he looks stupid, in those dumb tight shorts and his sneakers that Ben had commented on, looking up at Richie in a daze. But the look Richie is sending back to him as his eyes rake over Eddie—a look of awe, of lust, of _want_, Eddie’s sure of it—stops him from even thinking about that. He wants nothing more than to wipe all of the excess Halloween makeup off Richie’s face, to count the freckles at the bridge of his nose, right under the spot where his glasses always slide down to, to place a hand to the back of Richie’s head, into those dumb curls that Richie still hadn’t bothered to style, not even for his costume, and kiss him. And just when he thinks it could happen, just when he’s convinced that maybe, with the way Richie is looking down at him, breath fanning gently over Eddie’s face and grip tightening on Eddie’s hand, he hears a voice call out for Richie, breaking whatever moment they’d been having.

“Come smoke with us man!”

Richie lets out a strangled groan that nearly makes Eddie weak in the knees and plasters a smile on his face before turning around. “Sure thing, be there in a minute.”

He turns back to Eddie then, eyes darting all around behind Eddie as he gently places the sheet back around his shoulders, smiling softly as he ties it around them like a cape.

He steps back from Eddie and Eddie feels like he can finally breathe again (though that could be from the increased air flow he’s getting now that his sheet isn’t stuck to him like a second skin).

Richie’s off a moment later, leaving him alone in the kitchen, wondering what the fuck just happened (or almost happened) and how he can get it to happen again.

\--

It’s two hours later and Eddie’s seen all of his friends intermittently except for Richie. He’s danced with Bev, taken on Mike and Bill in beer pong with Stan, and gone out on the balcony for some fresh air with Ben. He was right about people being too drunk to notice his costume—or maybe he’s just gotten less self-conscious as the night has worn on. He’s currently propped up against the wall, waiting in line for what he hopes is the bathroom. It hasn’t moved much so for all he knows he’s just standing around with a bunch of other confused people.

He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, humming along to the catchy Halloween track playing, when he senses someone sidling up next to him. He cracks an eye open, shuffling to stand up straight quickly when he sees who it is.

“Erick. Hi.” He’s dressed as a vampire, complete with fake blood and white face makeup, glowing slightly in the black lights, and grinning at Eddie, looking slightly tipsy. He’s waved to Eddie in class a few times, even lingered in front of Eddie’s seat to talk before class started, but he hadn’t sat down with him since that first day.

“Hey Eddie. Enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I didn’t know you knew Bev.”

“I don’t actually, I know Ben. Do you know him?”

Eddie can’t help but emit a laugh that, unfortunately, comes out as more of a giggle. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Erick quirks an eyebrow at him, still smiling. He places a hand up against the wall, leaning into Eddie slightly to be heard over the music as he says, “I like your costume. Big Rocky Horror fan?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, not really. Richie suggested it. I’ve only seen the movie once actually, with Richie when we were teenagers.” Eddie cringes internally, unable to stop talking as he says, “My mom would have killed me if she’d known.”

Erick nods, lips turning down. “You’ve known each other awhile then?”

“Who, Richie?” Erick nods. “Yeah, we’ve known each other forever.”

Erick’s pulling his hand off the wall, starting to lean back and out of Eddie’s space. Eddie just blinks up at him, glancing around his shoulder to see if the line has moved at all. When he looks back, Erick’s mouth is open, words on the tip of his tongue, only to snap closed when an arm lands on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie looks over to see who it’s attached to, reflexes a little slower than normal, and comes face-to-face with Richie. Or, face-to-neck, because fuck is Richie tall enough without those shoes on.

“Hiya Erick,” Richie forces out, that same tight-lipped smile on his face. “Eddie Spaghetti,” he greets Eddie more warmly.

“Couples costume, huh?” is all Erick says in reply.

Eddie’s too busy staring at Richie’s shoes, wondering just how he’s standing in them because no way has he ever worn heels before, to even think of answering.

“Yep, that’s me and Eds, two peas in a pod. Inseparable.” Richie tugs Eddie closer to him to punctuate his point, earning an elbow in the ribs from Eddie. Richie grimaces but otherwise holds in his grunt of pain.

Erick lets out sigh, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head. “Right, I get it man. I’ll see you guys in class.”

Before Eddie knows it, Erick’s walking away. Richie’s grip only loosens on him a little bit. “What does he get?”

“Huh?” Richie asks, now looking down at Eddie.

“Erick. He said he gets it. What did he mean?”

Richie shrugs, the motion jostling Eddie’s own shoulders. “Who knows Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie shoves Richie’s arm off of him, the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably from where Richie’s forearm was pressed against it. “Fuck off, don’t call me that.”

Richie’s grinning at him and Eddie almost lets himself get lost in it. Almost. “We’re not a couple.”

The grin falters. “What?”

“He said couples costume. But we’re not a couple.”

“Well, I mean,” Richie sputters, “technically Frank N. Furter and Rocky are a couple. Kind of.”

Eddie’s brows draw in together. His head hurts from thinking. Or maybe it’s the loud music getting to him. “But he didn’t mean Frank N. Furter and Rocky. He meant us. I think.”

Richie scoffs. “Why would he mean us?” His eyes dart between Eddie and the line in front of him, hand gently guiding Eddie along the wall as it moves up.

“I don’t know Richie, why would he?”

Richie just stares at him, lips sealed for once.

“I mean, all of our friends are dressed up in couples’ costumes—”

“Technically the Ninja Turtles are brothers—”

“And you were really insistent that I dress up as Rocky.”

Richie chokes out a nervous laugh. “Well have you seen your thighs Eddie. It’d be a shame not to whip them out every once in a while, they’re a weapon all on their own.”

“Exactly!” Eddie exclaims. “You’re always going on about my legs and calling me cute, you keep getting jealous over Erick and I thought you were jealous about me making a friend but now I don’t know. And I swear we almost kissed in the kitchen earlier.” Eddie doesn’t know why he’s still talking, why the commands from his brain to his mouth telling him to shut the fuck up aren’t working but it’s all coming up and out, all of the confusion he’s felt over the past few weeks that was only worsened by the feelings he already had for Richie. He knows his words are coming out frantic, but he just can’t help it.

Richie shifts on his feet. “You’re drunk Eddie.”

“Maybe.”

Richie falters. “I’m drunk.”

“Also maybe.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, broken out of it only the clearing of a throat behind Eddie. He snaps out of it and sees that it’s his turn in line.

When he looks back to Richie, Richie’s looking anywhere but at him. He feels his throat start to close up, anxiety starting to creep in. God, why did he have to say anything? He was probably wrong about everything and knowing his luck Richie will remember all of this in the morning and Eddie will have to hope that he won’t let it affect their friendship.

“I’m gonna head home,” he says, jaw clenched. That gets Richie’s eyes to snap up to his.

“What? Don’t go yet Eds.”

Eddie shakes his head, “No. No, I’m gonna go.”

“At least let me walk you,” Richie tries.

He pushes past him, heading for Bev and Ben’s room in search of some of Ben’s clothes because no way is he heading out in this outfit and he has no doubt that Ben isn’t in any state to drive him. “I’ll get an uber.”

He makes it to their bedroom and pushes his way inside. He’s surprised to see it’s empty of people, all of the partygoers keeping the party strictly to the kitchen, living room, and hallway.

He goes to push the door closed behind him, grunting in frustration when Richie’s hand darts out to stop it. Richie slips in, closing the door behind him, but Eddie’s already flipping the light on and rifling through Ben’s dresser. He finds what he’s looking for—old gym clothes from their high school days—and goes to untie his makeshift sheet-cape from his shoulders. He’s sure Ben won’t miss these.

He drops the sheet to the floor, bending down a bit to put his foot through the leg of the shorts when he hears a muffled groan behind him. He stills, somehow managing to balance on one foot, and turns his head slowly to look behind them at the source of the noise.

Richie’s gaze is heavy on him—or, on his lower half at least—bottom lip pressed harshly between his teeth.

Eddie lowers his foot, cautiously reaching out to place the clothes on Ben and Beverly’s bed. He moves toward Richie slowly, worried that any quick movements will startle him.

When he’s standing in front of Richie, nearly toe-to-toe, he can feel his breath quicken. He wills everything in him not to have an anxiety attack, not right now of all moments, when Richie’s still looking at him like _that_.

He tentatively reaches a hand out, places it on Richie’s, right above his wrist. His thumb starts rubbing circles on Richie’s soft skin of its own accord, his shoes lifting off the ground slightly as he begins to stand on his tiptoes and holy fuck, what is he even doing?

“Richie,” he breathes out, words barely a whisper over the sound of still pumping music but heavy in the air between them.

Before he has time to even think about it—to think about Richie not returning his feelings or what this will mean for their friendship or that this is possibly just the worst idea ever because they’ve both been drinking—their lips are meeting. Richie’s craning his neck down, meeting Eddie in the middle, his free hand wrapping itself firmly around Eddie’s waist, his long fingers stretched out against the skin of Eddie’s torso. Those few times Eddie had let his mind wander, to think of this moment, kissing Richie for the first time, it had been so very different—soft and tentative, their lips meeting gently as they got to know each other. So very different from now, their lips pressed against each other hard, hands gripping at each other tightly, lips slipping open without hesitation for tongues to brush one another.

Eddie’s pulling away with a gasp, taking in a breath that he nearly loses immediately because Richie’s lips have occupied themselves with his neck, mouthing at him in a way he knows will leave a mark.

Richie pulls away for but a second. “Fuck you look good in those shorts Eds.”

They’re walking toward the bed together, Eddie backwards and Richie forwards until they both fall down on the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

Richie moves to hover above him, messy curls falling into his eyes as his lips seek out Eddie’s, pressing against them much gentler this time. They stay like that for a few minutes, giving each other long, soft kisses and short, simple pecks. Eddie’s mind is swimming and his mouth feels nearly numb from the large smile that he can’t shake off his face. Richie looks not far off, his elbows shaking to hold his weight up but his grin blinding as he huffs out a little laugh against Eddie’s lips.

The weight finally becomes too much for Richie, as he removes himself from over Eddie and lays down next to him instead, hand leaving Eddie’s waist and lazily seeking out Eddie’s hand that’s laying between them on top of the comforter.

Eddie feels a knot form in his stomach once the presence of Richie’s weight is no longer above him; that familiar feeling of doubt creeping in. Before it can takeover his thoughts though, Richie speaks.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he sighs. Elation spreads throughout Eddie at the words, a low, swooping sensation in his stomach.

Feeling brave, he replies, “Not as long as I have.”

Richie flops over onto his side quickly, head propped up in his hand as he smiles smugly down at Eddie. “Oh yeah? Try, since we were 13, Eds.”

It feel like there’s a lump in Eddie’s throat as he chokes out a simple, “Shit, man.”

Richie nods eagerly and Eddie can’t help but grin back at him. This whole time he’d been worried about crushing on his best friend for no reason.

Richie yawns suddenly, stretching out a bit on the bed as he rolls onto his stomach. Still maintaining eye contact with Eddie, he wraps an arm around Eddie’s middle. Eddie sees his eyes flicker from his own arm up to Eddie’s face; can see the nerves hidden behind those eyes. He only turns onto his side to face Richie more, enveloping himself further in Richie’s embrace.

They lay like that in silence for a while, just staring at each other as their eyes become heavier and, eventually, they both fall asleep

\--

Eddie blinks his eyes open slowly. He can feel where they’re caked down from sleep and his mouth feels stuffed with cotton, the taste revolting. He’s hot and sweaty, wrapped under an arm—Richie’s arm, he can’t help but smile—and still in those golden shorts. There’s music pounding in his head, loud enough to nearly rival the volume it was last night.

“Wakey, wakey lovebirds!” comes Bev’s voice.

Okay, so the music isn’t coming from his head, but through the open door that Beverly’s standing in. He recognizes the song immediately—the Time Warp from Rocky Horror—and groans as he lifts his head up to give the meanest glare he can manage to Bev.

“Beverly,” he croaks, voice raspy, “it’s November 1st. You are legally not allowed to play Halloween music until next October.”

She just cackles, yelling for Ben to turn the music up louder (Eddie definitely hears three voices protesting from the living room) and Richie groans beside him, removing his arm from Eddie to wrap both of his hands around his ears.

“This is what you get for falling asleep in our bed and getting makeup on our comforter, _Richard_.” She heads over to her closet, quickly grabbing a pair of clothes before crossing back over to the door. “Now get up guys, we’re all heading out for hangover breakfast and then coming back to clean.” With that, Bev flounces out of the room, leaving a tired and grumbling Eddie and Richie behind.

Richie’s head pops up a moment later. “Is she gone?” Eddie nods solemnly, the motion making him feel sick.

Richie just stares at him for a moment before reaching over to Bev’s nightstand, blindly reaching for glasses that he must have put there last night. Once they’re on, he blinks a few times, taking in Eddie’s face as Eddie does the same.

Eddie breaks the silence. “Hi.”

“Hi.” And then, “You look like a mess Eds.”

Eddie scoffs, “You don’t look much better Richie.”

They both break out into laughter, wincing afterward.

“So,” Eddie clears his throat, “since you were 13, huh?”

The look on Richie’s face at his words is so soft and nervous, that Eddie nearly feels bad for bringing it up.

“Uh, yeah. I’ve liked you for ages. But um, if you don’t…I mean if this was just…”

“Me too,” Eddie blurts out. He feels nauseous just saying it (though that’s probably mostly the hangover) despite Richie having admitted basically the same. “I mean, I’ve liked you for a few years now. Or, I’ve only realized it the last few years. It’s probably been ages for me too.” Eddie’s rambling, his eyes flickering all around the room, taking in the paintings on the bedroom walls and the peeling paint on the closet doors—anything but Richie lying beside him.

But Richie soon shows him he has nothing to worry about as he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “What do you say we steal some of old Benny boy’s clothes and meet the rest of the Losers?”

They both get up out of bed and take their pick of Ben’s clothes. Eddie heads for the bathroom with his, hoping to find a spare toothbrush in one of the drawers. When he comes back out, Richie has changed and is flailing around as Bev scrubs at his face with makeup wipes, telling him to “hold still!”

He greets his friends out in the living room as they wait for Richie and Bev to finish up and Eddie’s heart feels so impossibly full as he looks around the room at them. Things are still shitty with his mom and he still doesn’t feel like he’s quite back to the Eddie that had thrived while off at college last year, but he thinks he could be well on his way. One party can’t fix everything, and he knows admitting his feelings for Richie won’t be some magic cure either. But as he looks at Mike, Stan, and Bill, resting easily on each other as they stand by the door, Ben and Bev as he leans down to kiss her cheek gently, and Richie’s fingers threading themselves so easily within his own as he comes to stand beside Eddie, he knows that he’ll be surrounded by the best friends he could have along the way.

**Author's Note:**

> this got weirdly sappy at the end idk why, i just love them and their friendship so much. Have a Happy Halloween everyone!
> 
> on tumblr at ladystvrk :)


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